


Castle Rausten

by OrangeBlossoms



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, FE8 Week, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms
Summary: Magvel Week Day 6: Return/DisappearIn a city abandoned by the gods, a woman searches for her brother.





	Castle Rausten

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a bit of Bloodborne, Castlevania and Bram Stoker’s Dracula. And a lot of Sacred Stones. There are some action sequences, but nothing particularly graphic (mostly implications of awful things that have already happened… wanted to stay within that T rating). (Happy early Halloween)

She relinquishes the letter to the eagerly awaiting hands of the stranger whose fingers are adorned with rings. The engraved gold and silver appears protective though she doubts it is enough to ward against the dread of this place. The letter has been opened time and again and the creases are beginning to reflect the use, some of the pigment from the parchment fading and the ink flaking. It might not matter as she has it memorized at this point. There is blood on the summons, whose she doesn't know.

This stranger, a beacon in an unholy city overrun with fiends, has been the first to greet her in days, maybe weeks. Slight tremors travel up the woman's hands as her eyes scan the words, written in a script Eirika knows intimately even if she wishes with all that she is for the penmanship to be unfamiliar.

Upon their meeting, she had brightly proclaimed herself L’Arachel, a hero of virtue. She is dressed in layers of heavy robes that almost overwhelm her form. Despite the decay that blankets everything in this godsforsaken place, they remain white with intricate gold and silver embroidery. Eirika can only assume they must be enchanted. She has already noticed the sacred tomes she carries with her.

“Are you a hunter of fiends? Or are you something else?” she asks, eyes inquisitive. 

Everything about her is green and gold like sunlit leaves. Her voice is breathless as if she is attempting to restrain her interest even as her fingers grip the page like a vice. With noticeable reluctance, she hands the document to Eirika who folds it back into its envelope before it disappears into an inner coat pocket.

“I’m only trying to find my brother,” Eirika says, voice sluggish from disuse. “I thought… this letter might have the clues, but I don't know how to read it.” She pauses and shakes her head. “That's not quite it… I understand the words, but not what they refer to… I have asked anyone I could find and it led me here.”

L’Arachel nods as she gazes out over the twilit city. Eirika thinks it's been this way for hours now, a purple and red sky with a full moon overhead, the light of which is hazy and unclean.

“This place is of the divine, you know. No matter what they've done to it, it will outlast in one way or another,” she murmurs, eyes focused on some point in the distance, “I have been trying to get to the castle, but the path has evaded me. I think it will be difficult without being shown the way. Perhaps we could join forces for the time being. I think I can help you with that letter of yours.”

Eirika has to quietly smother the hope that blooms in her chest. It's the most positive response she's received since she left Renais. Most would slam the door in her face or offer a prayer up to the region’s deities and their servants when she showed them the stained parchment. At first, Eirika had dismissed the behavior as superstition. This was a land of gods and saints, so naturally they had also created their opposites in the local mythos. It wasn't until she saw the revenants for the first time that she began to truly listen to the warnings in their prayers and hushed accusations.

She had spent a week with a traveling monk and mage clearing out the woods near a village. The mage knew the names of every ghoul and shade they encountered, but even she had attempted to deter her from following the cryptic instructions on the summons. After a muted conversation between themselves, they had directed her over the eastern mountains to the once theocracy of Rausten. She would have to travel by land, they warned. Ships that left Carcino never docked in their final ports of late.

There had been a point on the road where things had shifted and she was the lone traveler headed east. Everyone else moved south to the mysterious desert realm of Jehanna or west to mercantile republic of Carcino, heads bowed, unwilling to make eye contact with the stranger walking towards forsaken lands, her horse long since perished in an attack. Trees like dark, jagged teeth on a backdrop of frozen mountain peaks loomed as she crossed into Rausten proper and she can see the forested foothills from where they stand.

The longer she is in this city, the more apparent it is that time isn't right. The moon has stayed suspended in place for too long, a watchful eye peering down over the stacked buildings and winding streets. The actual night sky would be of greater comfort than the bruised shades that remain. She doesn't know when she last ate or drank or slept, but none of it is important. She asks L’Arachel how long she's been here and isn't prepared for the response.

“Since the beginning,” she says, “Since before it all started. I couldn't abandon… Rausten.”

“Perhaps… perhaps we should leave for a night. You can tell me about the letter,” Eirika says, stepping back at the revelation.

“The way out might be harder to find than you think, but I will search with you. I know this place better than most,” she pauses, her gaze unfocused as if lost in a memory, “Before and now.”

The weight of her last words settles on the air in an uncomfortable way that causes Eirika to remember that the city was just that once, a bustling metropolis with markets and churches and ordinary inhabitants. It breaks her free from the deliberate inattention to certain details she had shrouded herself in as she roamed the decay in search of understanding. There is a soft pressure on her arm and the trance is broken. L’Arachel pulls her hand back and offers a genial smile even in this place that once was something other. Eirika remembers her brother and prepares herself to press on in her pursuit.

-x-

They never find the roads out of the city, which has become mazelike in her mind with its narrow alleys and foreboding cathedrals whose spires reach up to the wine colored sky and cast hungry shadows into courtyards. They encounter several bands of foes whose minds have deteriorated and skin has turned pallid. These creatures are like the revenants found in the surrounding woods and are little challenge to either her sword or L’Arachel’s tomes. 

In an older district where the buildings appear to be partially decomposed and smell of mold, the lurkers are less human with hairy asymmetric limbs that drag and lumbering gaits. L’Arachel calls forth magic that for brief moments sheds sunlight everywhere near that is stained by the unnatural dusk. Even the beasts at the edge of her range shield their eyes from the gleam.

When they pause to recover after their latest encounter, L’Arachel hums and frowns over a wound Eirika received from a hulking attacker whose thick hands nearly crushed her with a stone. She has more than tomes at her disposal as a staff appears and all Eirika’s scrapes and bruises are healed. L’Arachel’s confident mien restores itself as the damage fades.

“What are you hoping to accomplish here?” Eirika asks, avoiding thoughts of how they might be trapped. L’Arachel has been in this place ‘since the beginning’ though it’s unclear if she has ever attempted to leave until now. Ridding the city of monsters would be an impossible task alone. 

“I will go to the castle and end this ceaseless night,” L’Arachel states with unwavering conviction, a determined grimace tinged with a bitter resolve ghosting across her features before her expression is more open again. She shines with a vibrant warmth where everything else is draped in shadow or clammy and pale. After a moment, she adds, “We might find your brother there.”

Eirika is drawn in by the prospect even if L’Arachel’s smile drops a bit and her tone becomes cautionary. It is but a hope, not a promise.

“It will be a terrible task. I wouldn’t wish to subject you to it,” she says, once again peering into the evening sky at a far off point, “I will keep looking for the way out with you. I’m certain we could find one with our collective efforts. When my own duty is fulfilled, I will search for your brother myself.”

“No, I need to go,” she says and attempts to sound even a fraction as committed to moving forward as L’Arachel. She is aware that she has kept some secrets despite how L’Arachel has embraced her companionship with a forthright sincerity as they move about the city fighting terrors.

In a flurry of robes, L’Arachel closes the distance between them and clasps her hands around Eirika’s own.

“I knew from the moment I saw you the quality of your character! You have proven in this short time your bravery.” There is a hint of desperation that melts away as she clears her throat and pulls her hands back. “Shall we make our way to the castle then?” 

“Are you certain we will find what you are looking for there?” Eirika asks.

“It is both a _what_ and a _who_ ,” L’Arachel says, voice lowering, weighed down by something akin to anger, smoldering just under the surface despite the upward curve of her lips and light in her eyes that are as gold as the leaf impressions on the covers of her tomes. “And yes, I am certain they are there. I can sense it. Waiting and watching as the entire region descends into pandemonium. Don’t think they will be content with Rausten alone… But we won’t allow it!”

She is bright again, righteous fury hidden away with a twist of her hand as she gestures in time with her proclamation and smiles.

“What exactly is it or… are they?” Eirika asks, creeping closer as if it is a secret and they are being monitored.

_Waiting and watching..._

"Does it matter?” L’Arachel asks, “Is it a resuscitated corpse, a disembodied demon? Holy tomes are equally proficient at handling them both, so I am not at all worried. The issue has been getting there in the first place, which, I must admit, has proven impossible until now. Until you." The way she says it implies additional meaning, as if Eirika is someone necessary and anticipated, someone to hope for as they traverse treacherous grounds.

“What do we do?”

“We go to the crossroads as your letter instructs,” L’Arachel says. “And we wait.”

-x-

She follows L’Arachel as they bisect the city, traveling over rooftops and through dilapidated buildings. L’Arachel challenges beasts and undead where Eirika would have preferred to steal past the shadows, leaving creatures undisturbed. After an indeterminate amount of time they stand in the place L’Arachel is convinced is what the letter refers to as the crossroads. A single functional lantern casts a circle of wan light where two roads meet. It is surrounded by carriages and carts piled up or overturned. Eirika tries not to think of the passengers who most likely failed to flee and instead ponders the untethered feeling of not knowing what day it is or how many hours have passed.

From the shadow of a building a figure in a long jacket with a high collar and hat pulled low morphs out of the darkness. They both tense as he approaches and Eirika slides a hand over the hilt of her rapier. She is unsettled to see that his single visible eye matches the deep crimson of his hair.

“You are going to the castle, are you? You're more foolish than you look. Or less human,” he says, eying them both, his face partially obscured. “But nothing's been human here for ages. Would you like me to wager which one it is? A guess for some trinkets? I shall flip a coin for it.”

“I cannot abide gambling,” L’Arachel says and without further warning lashes out with a spell. Her intended target dodges the flash of light. There is a hiss to the spell's arc as it shoots through the spot the stranger stood just a moment before and impacts brick buildings with a sharp crack.

He pulls out a dagger before Eirika can slide her rapier out of its scabbard. In a blur of movement, cold metal is against her throat.

“It was my intention to offer an alliance, but you’ve gone and done something hasty,” he says and Eirika trembles at the realization that there is no warmth to his breath as he speaks. “Do you normally go attacking people when you first meet them?”

“You are no _person_! I am a descendant of Latona herself. It is my sacred duty to cleanse the earth of filth!” she says, straightening as she invokes her heritage. 

“Rather short-sighted of you to group me in with that pathetic lot. I’ve come on behalf of my own familial obligations to put an end to this farce. They've more than overstepped their bounds and must be punished.”

L’Arachel deflates slightly at this revelation before she squares her stance.

“I don't believe you!”

“Why do you think your uncle never sent forces to the south? I’m not your enemy, but if you’d like to fight, well…”

He motions curving the dagger inward without increasing the pressure. Eirika isn't certain whether it is the letter in her pocket that stays L’Arachel’s hand or something else. Her shoulders sag and her eyes lose some of their shine. Like a light that has dimmed under the oppressive gloom, L’Arachel concedes.

“Please. Just let her go. We shall talk.”

“Like civilized individuals? Riiight,” he says, pushing Eirika away as L’Arachel lowers her tome and moves to stand close. Eirika can sense her presence at her side and the very air seems to change as she glowers before composing herself.

“What might someone such as yourself be doing here if you aren’t aligned with the ones in the castle?” L’Arachel asks. Not for the first time, Eirika is out of her depth, but she has made it this far and there is no turning back.

“I’ve just arrived, really,” he says, lounging on a cart filled with luggage and packages that appear to have been put together and then abandoned in a hurry. Eirika is now all too aware that his casual posture disguises preternatural reflexes. “I’ve come to have a chat with the Bishop.”

“The Bishop is gone. Vanquished by my own hand,” L’Arachel says, “Something else has taken his place, however.”

“Very interesting,” he says, his tone sardonic, “So, what was your plan then. Walk up to the castle gate and ask to be invited to tea? I don’t suppose you would be able to see the way even if you once knew it’s location. It’s not exactly the same holy structure it was before. They’ve done a bit of redecorating.”

Eirika glances in L’Arachel’s direction and sees the play of emotions across her face as she provides their assailant with his answers without uttering a word.

“I’m Joshua, by the way. I’d be curious to hear what your plan was, Healer.”

“L’Arachel, though I suspect you knew that already,” she mutters before rallying, “It’s no surprise that you’ve heard of me! My companion is Eirika. We are searching for her brother. She has received information that suggests he is also en route to the castle. The carriage shall show up momentarily—” 

“You hoped to take the provided transportation? You really are careless. Might as well deliver yourselves up on a silver platter,” he says, elbow resting in the palm of a hand as he flicks his wrist dismissively.

Eirika looks between them and begins to doubt, but she is unaware of any alternatives.

“Would you know a better way then?” she says before L’Arachel can manage an indignant retort.

“Better, yes. Easy, no, but I think your friend has just the skill set to make it work,” he says. 

“What do you mean by that?” L’Arachel says, grip tightening on her tome.

“There’s a gate in the southern part of the city that you won’t be able to see unless you touch it yourself… or have an eye for these things. It’s not meant to be sniffed out by you holy healer types. On the other side waits a man, or so he would like you to think. He minds the gate though I’d bet all my coins he’d like to be causing a ruckus elsewhere, if he had the choice.”

With a finger, he lifts up his cap to show a gaping wound where his right eye would be. The display does not faze Eirika as it might have once and he appears disappointed at their lack of reaction.

“Had a bit of a run in with him as you can see,” he says, “It was a miscalculation on my part. Doesn’t care much about swords, but magic should do the trick. Just stay clear of his lance. It’s a nasty piece of work. Cursed, if I had to take a guess.”

“Why are you telling us this?” L’Arachel asks.

“As I said, I intended to offer an alliance. We seem to have similar goals in mind. You wish to reclaim Rausten for its people or smite evil or whatever unfinished business you profess to have here and I have some tasks to attend to in the castle. It’s harboring some charlatans whose existence needs to be expunged. Again, familial obligations that need tending to and I’m the one left to do it.”

“What is it you are leaving out?” L’Arachel says, continuing with her line of questioning.

“Nothing really. I expect he won’t stay human for long though, so it’s best if you don’t dawdle when you encounter him. I’ll hang back so as not to set him off early. You with the sword though,” he says, gesturing to Eirika, “might want to stay with me.” 

“Absolutely not!” L’Arachel says, “We’re going together or not at all. As if I’d leave her in your company. Certainly not with that stunt you pulled earlier.” 

Joshua shrugs at the outburst, immune to L’Arachel’s clamoring. Eirika remembers that L’Arachel attacked first, but decides against mentioning it. If she has to place her trust in anyone, L’Arachel has done far more to earn it. She turns to her and casts her lot.

“I’ll go with you, L’Arachel,” she says and is rewarded with a radiant smile as L’Arachel stands up taller. Joshua interrupts the moment as he sits up from his reclining position and hops back down to the ground.

“Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Joshua says.

Unease creeps its way into the lull, but L’Arachel shatters the stillness as she turns to the south.

“Well? Lead the way then!” 

If the carriage ever does arrive, they don’t loiter long enough to witness it. 

-x-

The city is easier to move through with three and despite L’Arachel dutifully engaging with any and all that cross their path, they progress faster than they had before. It is partially due to Joshua’s fleet-footed movement as he cleaves and slashes through creatures faster than Eirika’s eyes can follow. He falls back at a point after he indicates the location of the hidden gate and Eirika lays a hand on what at first appears to be a mountainside. The rockface fades and she stumbles until her hand connects with solid wood. When she makes contact, the doors open outwards of their own volition and they both step back. On the other side of the gate is a wintry expanse and the sky abruptly shifts past dusk into the dead of night. The moon shines cold and crisp over leafless trees and a cliffside trail, a thick fog curling up the steep drop to the right of the path. The scene is serene in comparison to the chaotic city vistas with their tightly spaced buildings and murky sky.

They see the figure Joshua cautioned them about sitting on a stone, arm loosely cradling a lance that pulses with an unnatural glow. The man appears transfixed by the full moon before he turns to them, wild eyes scanning them both until his vision settles on Eirika.

“Ah… Eirika…” he says with an unwanted familiarity, “We’ve been waiting for you. Your brother has already arrived. A pity I didn’t have the chance to hunt him down myself, but I think I will enjoy you even more.”

“What do you mean?” Eirika asks, stepping forward and ignoring Joshua’s advice in the face of potential information about her brother. “Where is Ephraim?”

“Oh, he’s being entertained at the castle as we speak. Would you like to join him?” he asks, standing with the lance in hand and walking closer. 

The moon casts a strange light across his face, which begins to shift into something less human as he moves. His jaw extends, teeth growing to sharp points. Her shoulders tighten as she clenches her hand around the hilt of her sword. Despite all her experience with shuffling undead and vicious beasts, this is an entirely new threat.

L’Arachel steps in front of her and sends a spell in his direction as the transformation begins in earnest. There are snaps and loud pops as all his limbs elongate and he grows to tower over where he once stood. Bat like wings unfurl to block the moonlight. An inhuman screech announces the completion of the metamorphosis. Eirika sucks in a breath as the noise reverberates in her bones. Where once stood a man now rises an enormous bat with a wolfish face and predatory gaze. Undeterred, L’Arachel takes the opportunity to fire one last attack before the beast engages them. 

In a back leg he holds the lance and Eirika minds the earlier warning by keeping her distance even as she rushes forward. Over her shoulder, a beam of light flies by and crashes into a wing, the membrane crackling like lit kindling as magic eats away at the flesh. The accompanying shriek is so piercing that Eirika nearly drops her weapon in order to cover her ears. Swooping low, he is surprisingly agile as he slashes at them both. 

“The Master made no mention of delivering you in one piece. He has his ways of breathing life into the deceased,” he says with a low chuckle, his voice monstrous now. 

Baring his teeth, he snaps at Eirika who dodges, still cautious of the lance’s range. She has many years of practice against a skilled lance and while the movements are more chaotic, she can still read them well enough to stay safe. As another of L’Arachel’s attacks connects with the same wing she had targeted before, he turns his attention to her for a moment.

“And _you_. You’ve lost. Despair! All that you hold dear is dead and gone. I’ll ensure you stay that way, too.” 

The grin that follows is frenzied and he looks about to speak again, but L’Arachel doesn’t fall for the taunt. A spell connects with his jaw, snapping his head up and as he falls, dazed by the blow. His damaged wing buckles as it is hit again, skin and hair fizzling into dust. Taking advantage of the distraction, Eirika plunges her sword into his chest once and then again. He thrashes wildly, dropping the lance before grasping her with a hind leg and tossing her to the left of the path into the woods. Her body slams into a solid object leaving her stunned as the air is forcibly knocked out of her. Someone calls her name and there is a blur of red and black before everything goes white. 

-x-

The first indications that her body is regaining consciousness is the chill from the air on her face. When she opens her eyes, she sees the star-filled night sky and the full moon overhead. For a moment, she can pretend she is still traveling on the road, the city and its inhabitants all a fever dream. She is in a sitting position with her back against a tree. Gnarled branches overhead spread disquieting shadows under the light of the moon. She startles when she sees L’Arachel at her side. Her presence quickly dispels her daydreams. 

“You’re alright! I mean, of course you’re alright! I healed you,” she says as she crouches next to her. “Can you stand? I don’t think we should linger here.”

“What happened?” Eirika asks, lifting herself from the ground as L’Arachel offers an arm to steady her.

“Well, after your run in with a tree, Joshua decided to finally make an appearance. I retrieved your blade,” L’Arachel says, indicating to her side where her rapier rests, cleaned of any of the remnants of battle.

“Where’s Joshua?” she asks. Their third companion is nowhere to be found.

“He took a fall with the beast over the cliff side. But not to worry! I’m certain we’ll see him again. Joshua, that is, not the beast. He won’t be coming back,” she says, finishing the abbreviated retelling with a self-satisfied smile.

The gate behind them has closed and there is only one way to go: forward. She stretches, testing out her mobility and is pleasantly surprised to find everything in working condition. There is no stiffness that has accompanied her previous experiences with healing staves and she thinks L’Arachel must be of a different caliber than some of the other clerics and sages she has encountered. She bends down to pick up her rapier and sheaths it as she surveys their surroundings. 

There are marks on the ground from the scuffle and they both make their way over to the edge of the cliff to peer into the abyss. The way below is obscured by thick fog. L’Arachel sounds certain Joshua would return though Eirika can’t bring herself to be as optimistic even after seeing him accomplish supernatural feats.

“He’ll meet up with us in the castle,” she says, before looking around as if she is listening for a noise. The only sound Eirika hears is the wind rustling the bare branches. “We should go.”

A dull thud reaches her ears. Far off in the woods, Eirika sees skeletal figures skulking in the shadows. Some shoot arrows that fall far short of their targets. Others with tattered hanging flesh throw rocks while emitting gurgled moans, their eyes glow like embers in the darkness. L’Arachel does not insist on clearing the forest. 

“It is the border of the Darkling Woods. There are ancient horrors there that have seen this moment as an opportunity. It would serve us better to continue with the task at hand,” she says.

L’Arachel heads over to the path and Eirika accompanies her. They are exposed with the forest on one side and the gaping chasm where Joshua and the beast disappeared on the other. The city was cramped and many of their confrontations were close quarters battles. This place is open and there are no walls to block attacks or hide behind. 

As they advance, it begins to snow. Eirika stops when the air chills quicker than is natural and the flakes begin to fall thicker. The light of the moon vanishes as the weather turns hazardous. Soon enough she is leaning forward against the wind, her hood pulled up and long coat pulled close. 

L’Arachel’s shoulder is touching hers and nearly everything within arm’s reach is white. If it weren’t for the bright shades of her hair, Eirika fears that L’Arachel would disappear in the impromptu storm as well. Her own thick locks whip against her face and chest from her angled bearing. She’s grateful for her tall boots as the precipitation accumulates on the ground. They make progress only through dogged effort: one step at a time. A tug on her arm causes her to incline her head in the direction of L’Arachel. Her tomes still bleed sunlight into the surrounding space and Eirika warms at the sight. L’Arachel unties the cincture around her waist and removes the top layer of her vestments. 

“Here,” Eirika thinks L’Arachel says, but the wind and snow devour any sound.

“But what about you?” she shouts. 

“It will take more than a little breeze to best me!” L’Arachel exclaims in return and the wind howls as if in defiance of her words. “Oh, stop it!” 

She wraps herself in the outer layer and whether it’s due to the contact with the tomes or some additional enchantment on the garment itself, the cold becomes more bearable. The passage of time is once again unknowable as they trudge forward until it all stops abruptly and without warning. The full moon is visible overhead once again and appears to have grown closer somehow. They are still on the path and it is as if the blizzard never occurred. The trees are mostly bare. There is fresh snow on the ground, but not nearly the amount that she would expect from such a storm. She looks around, uneasy at the unexplained changes, before removing the extra layer and returning it. 

“Illusions and falsehoods are what our foes deal in,” L’Arachel says as she fixes her robes. “It is of great importance to remember that. I will warn you, they are capable of weaving silver-tongued deceptions. Listen for the lies in their words.” 

They continue their trek, the path now on a steep incline. The city decreases in size behind them as she recognizes buildings and districts that they had traversed what must have been hours before from a new angle. The display laid out in miniature trivializes all the traveling they have done. 

As they round a bend in the road, the castle itself appears further up a hill. It had been hidden before by mountains across the valley and it is suddenly clear what L’Arachel had been looking for when they were still in the city. It is nothing like anything Eirika has seen before with towers narrowly connected at various heights and crisscrossing stairways that defy any architectural sense. L’Arachel huffs, her brows drawn in at the sight.

“What extravagance with which the profane attempt to disguise themselves,” she says, as if scolding a disobedient child. “No matter. We’ll set things right again.”

Her gait is now a determined march as she heads towards the structure and stops when they are nearly to the wall. There are no guards that they can see. The front gate is lowered and portcullis raised. It is a surreal combination of trappings from different time periods.

“Some things are the same,” L’Arachel says. “Though most are not. Or don’t appear to be…” There is a sudden thinness to her voice as she moves a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“How should we approach?” Eirika asks.

“I think they will wait for us. The thing inside, that is,” she says after a pause, “They will not come to meet us. They are pleased to know we are here, but let us find your brother first before we deal with _them_.”

Eirika does not ask what mysticism allows L’Arachel to know these things. She has not devoted herself to any kind of magical or spiritual arts and realizes when a task is beyond her abilities. It’s one way she differs from Ephraim, who takes charge and pushes through even when words should be used or deference to someone more experienced is advisable. If he had stayed and talked with her, they could have planned and sought aid. Instead, he left in the night without a word. Did he fear for her safety like he had the many times she asked him to teach her how to fight? Just as she had then, she would show him how determined she could be. This has never been a matter personal to Ephraim alone and that thought stings in a persistent way, like a rock in her boot as she walks. Lyon is just as important to her.

“I trust you to lead the way,” she says, as L’Arachel is the one who has even a remote understanding of where to go. 

L’Arachel raises her chin in response, the ambivalence gone as suddenly as the earlier storm. She heads straight for the open front gate with additional resilience to her step. They pass through a corridor of stone and Eirika can see the inner portcullis on one end and spaces in the ceiling that could be opened for unpleasant surprises. They approach an entrance and Eirika compares the rashness of entering through the front door as opposed to what might have happened if they had taken the carriage. Joshua is not there to advise against the action this time and L’Arachel is already in motion.

“Well, let’s not disappoint!” she says as she throws open the doors to an entry hall, the sound echoing against the tall ceilings and through empty rooms is followed by a heavy silence as if the very castle itself is offended over the disturbance. 

Dust swirls in the air as they move forward and her eyes begin to sting. The rugs and tapestries are tattered; furniture is overturned or broken. As they further encroach on the space candles are lit with irregular spacing, signaling an awareness of the intruders. Nothing jumps out, however, so they continue on, the sounds of their steps expanding throughout the emptiness. It is nearly as cold inside as it was on the path, but the walls do spare them from the biting wind.

As they move beyond the entry hall, a breeze rolls in through an open window. Snow has drifted onto the stone floor and moonlight tentatively grasps at the dark. Outside the window is a parapet and they both hop down onto snow covered stone. 

Eirika’s hand reaches for her rapier. Silhouettes of humanoid forms are scattered throughout the castle walls. Icicles hang from balustrades and roofs. Eirika shivers at the scene. L’Arachel approaches a towering bearded figure with staggered steps, reaching into the space between to touch a stone cheek. Her face is shadowed for a moment when she turns.

Statues in mid fight or flight, some wielding tomes, others axes or blades, take shape as Eirika allows her companion a moment of recovery. She avoids touching them even with her long coat as they weave through the silent watchers, mouths agape in fear or violent indignation.

“I had gone to escort an ill-mannered companion to the outer wall of the city. He wished to leave, but I was certain he was mistaken. He always did say he had an eye for trouble even in the mist that rolled down from the mountains,” she says and wavers a moment before continuing, “The fog lay thick that day. It blotted out the sun in the entire valley. I fear no one from the castle survived.”

She opens her mouth as if say more before closing it again. Eirika leans closer to show she is listening, but doesn’t interrupt.

“There was a time when all I ever hoped to do was vanquish the evil in the dark corners of the world. I still do, mind you,” she says, looking to Eirika before gazing upward, “but there was a draw to the ghastly out of a sense of… exhilaration, a desire for glory. I see it now as something of a moral failing. The conceit of youth.” 

There is no chance for consolation as L’Arachel pauses in her steps, holding an arm in front of Eirika and bringing them both up short. The wind drifts over the stone, sometimes bringing with it flurries that twist in the air over the walls and rooftops. It’s a much gentler gust than the storm they encountered on their path up to the castle. 

L’Arachel slowly pulls out her tome and fires off an attack in the direction of a set of still figures at one end of the wall. With a shriek, one of the crouched statues rears up to nearly double the height of the human trophies it had been hiding amongst. It carries a scythe and lifts up off the ground on wings as gray and textured as stone. She aims a charged shot and there is a sharp crack, another shrill cry and the clatter of the scythe as it falls to the ground. The rest of the fiend falls over the side of the wall and is lost to the misty depths below.

“Perhaps we should go back inside,” L’Arachel says and Eirika nods. In the distance there are answering cries to the startled wail of the defeated gargoyle. 

They find a heavy wooden door and open it with some effort, small icicles falling to the ground as the hinges groan. They are in another area past the entrance hall and L’Arachel once again directs their progress. Paintings on the walls showcase individuals in noble dress, facial features noticeably absent or blurred. Some have been crudely vandalized. L’Arachel does not look or comment, instead concentrating her attention on a set of doors at the far end of one hall. They are unlocked though the way she pushes through them, Eirika doubts a lock would have stopped her.

“They kept these rooms,” she says, brows furrowed, “How awful of them to keep this place and change everything else. What a mockery!”

There is a front room with upholstered chairs with elegantly carved legs and tables draped with lace covers. Further in is a wardrobe. L’Arachel paces that room, glancing at furniture and muttering about dust. She stops at a vanity and picks up an ornate box from its surface before blowing over the top. A wave of gray expands into the air, visible against the light of the moon as it shines in from windows that line the walls. With care, she removes a single stone before turning to Eirika, the gem in her cupped hands as if it is an offering.

“It would please me greatly if you accepted it. Something to remember me by after this ordeal has ended,” she says and Eirika is now certain this place was once L’Arachel’s. 

“I couldn’t possibly-”

She is interrupted when L’Arachel gently takes her hand and curls it around the red stone.

“I won’t take no for an answer! You simply must keep it. It’s an heirloom that has been in my family for generations and I want you to have it. It is a sign of our friendship.” Eirika brings her free hand up to her lips at the overly familiar gesture and L’Arachel’s voice lowers as her gaze turns down to look at their hands. “I have no use for it, I assure you, except to bestow it to you.”

L’Arachel squeezes her hand around Eirika’s before stepping back. Not wishing to argue the point further, Eirika places the gem in the same pocket as the letter. She will find some way to return the favor when it is all over. 

They stand in silence a moment and Eirika takes in the rooms. There are paintings here as well, but they are untouched. Some are portraits and others are pastoral scenes. The conjoined rooms have suffered neglect, but not the same level of ruin she has glimpsed elsewhere in both the city and other areas of the castle. She steps away, considering a question she has had since she first suspected something was terribly wrong with Lyon back before Ephraim left. The letter burns like a pyre against her breast. It is a constant reminder to carry on as she is always fearful of being too little, too late for them both. It’s possible that might still be true despite her best efforts. 

At first, she knew they would help him. Her and Ephraim. They would do whatever it took. Then Ephraim disappeared. Then she would do anything to bring them both home. It had to be possible. Then she disappeared as well and traveled as a sword for hire when the money ran out. Ephraim could have put together an entire retinue, an army even. They would have followed him into this nightmare. He had the option to not go quietly off into the night, but for her it was the only choice. She bites her lip to keep it from quivering before breathing deep to settle herself. 

“Do you think there could be a way…” Eirika begins before trailing off. 

“Yes?” L’Arachel asks, though her focus is elsewhere.

“If someone becomes one of those things… someone human. Can they be saved?”

L’Arachel turns to her, paler than before, but it might be the meager light.

“The only way to save them is to release them from existence. They are cursed and will remain so for all eternity until they no longer walk this earth. When one becomes as they are, there is no peace. Only a desire to spread their diseased essence and corrupt the ones they once loved most. It is a terrible fate and to slay these demons is truly an act of mercy.” 

Eirika releases a shaky breath at the pronouncement and turns away. 

“So, that is the only way…”

“To my knowledge, yes,” L’Arachel says, pausing, “You know who wrote your letter, don’t you?” 

She collects herself, preparing a response. L’Arachel waits attentively.

“He is a dear friend… was,” she says, the last word a fragile whisper. It is what she has feared and she needs to let go. 

_It’s over. I’m too late._

“I’m sorry,” L’Arachel says and though Eirika hears the genuine concern in her voice, L’Arachel shakes her head and fails an attempt at a smile. Eirika still has hope for Ephraim, but what will be left to L’Arachel when everything is over? 

“I’m sorry, too. I never would have thought… I didn’t think any of this would be possible,” she says and hugs herself. 

“No, no, it’s… it’s not your responsibility, friend or no. The fact that you would brave all of this for your brother and.. and this friend… it speaks volumes...,” she says, trailing off. She rests a hand on her shoulder, “Let’s move on.” 

Eirika meets her eyes and nods her agreement, ready to search more of the unfamiliar hallways and leave the stilted conversation behind them.

-x-

L’Arachel is silent as they move through unexplored areas. Her spells are methodical and lack the ardor previously on display. They encounter monsters at irregular points and are often able to make the preemptive strike, suggesting that no organized resistance to their arrival has occurred. In an old library where books are scattered throughout the rooms on tables, floors and ladders, they find Joshua again. 

“You missed the spider,” he says, as if it is something to be dismayed about.

“What a shame,” L’Arachel says, clasping a tome to her chest. 

“It was an enjoyable romp. Thought it could get the jump on me after I walked into a room,” he says making a crawling motion with his hand. He looks at them expectantly, but moves on when he senses the atmosphere.

“Things get dull after a few millennia, so I’ll take what entertainment I can get,” he says, flipping a coin and snatching it from the air at its zenith. “Gambling, however, that rarely gets old. When it does, you change the stakes.”

L’Arachel makes no move to scold him as she had before. Instead, she wanders the ranges of shelves and examines books. Though Eirika feels guilty over getting a second opinion, she can’t help but be curious over Joshua’s take on the situation.

“Are you like them?” Eirika asks, her voice just above a whisper.

“Not at all,” he says, crossing his arms and rolling his eye, “They are but shadows. Greedy knowledge seekers toying with mysteries they don’t understand. It’s folly to play with things beyond your ken, but you humans do it anyway.”

Eirika wants to protest on instinct, but her thoughts go to Lyon who was kind and gentle once yet has somehow ushered in an age of terror.

“I suppose we do, but we’ll stop this here,” she says. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve still got a mark to find. Our friend with the lance told me where to locate him before he met his inevitable end,” he says, crushing his hand around the coin as he begins walking to the exit. “Are you coming, Healer?”

L’Arachel’s shoulders raise at the appellation, but once again, she offers no lecture. She joins them and Eirika reaches out to touch her arm.

“We’ll end this,” she says, leaning close and L’Arachel brightens at the gesture. Eirika marvels for a moment over how the room is suddenly lighter from the change. “I promise that I’ll do what I can to help you when it’s over.”

L’Arachel’s expression goes soft at the vow before she reaches for Eirika’s hand on her arm and nods.

“You’re right. Let’s press on. No sense in being dreary when our triumph is nearly at hand!” she says and nimbly hops over a pile of books. 

Eirika doesn’t know what will be needed, but if Lyon cannot atone for his actions, perhaps the powers that be will accept her own efforts in his stead.

They hasten their steps to catch up to Joshua who walks until he stops before a large set of doors. He moves to open them and the frame shudders, the aged wood groaning at the movement. The doors separate to reveal a long banquet hall. He walks walks in first, not waiting for them to follow. The light of the moon slants in through tall windows illuminating a man flanked by two multi-headed dogs as he approaches from the far end of the hall.

“Swords up, friends! There are demons afoot and we three will deliver them from their wretched existence!” L’Arachel says as she steps forward, readying her tome until Joshua waves them back.

“I would appreciate it if you let me handle this one,” Joshua says, looking over his shoulder at them. “It’s personal.”

“Joshua!” the man calls, the sound of the heavy tread of his boots echoing against the tall ceilings. He opens his arms wide in welcome. “It’s been an age!”

Eirika notes the axe at his side and the low growls of the massive hounds, their backs level with the man’s shoulders.

“I know what you are now,” he says, “I’m like you. If you’d only shown me, perhaps we’d be on the same side of this conflict.”

“Ah, you’ll never be like me. You’re just a poor man’s imitation,” Joshua says. There is no heat to his voice, only a solid confidence. The man holds up his hands as if to alleviate some of the tension.

“I get it. You’re upset over what happened. I’m sorry about the queen. It couldn’t be helped,” he says, hefting his axe. “She didn’t want to play along with Master Lyon’s plans. The ruins at Lagdou were too good an opportunity to pass by, but she insisted on keeping things sealed up. Besides, losses are to be expected in times like these.”

Eirika shivers at the mention of the name. It is only further confirmation of her worst fears. L’Arachel glances at her in concern, but the back-and-forth between the two men is enough to redirect her attention.

“You’re just showing off your ignorance, Caellach. If you think she’d be taken down by someone such as you, you’ve been misled,” he says and shrugs as he pulls out a jewel-encrusted sword. “Well, as you said, losses are to be expected. Come on. Let’s finish this so I can deal with your so-called master next.”

Without further preamble, Joshua darts towards his foe who raises his axe in time to protect against the blow. As he moves to slash again, one of the dogs grabs hold of his side and tosses him towards a wall. He braces himself upon impact before leaping off the surface towards Caellach. In a sudden rush of movement, L’Arachel strikes out to cast a spell, ignoring the earlier request and causing the monster to yelp in surprise. Both beasts refocus their attention on them, heads snarling in unified anger.

“Surely he only meant the axe-wielding fiend. Three versus one is rather unsporting, don’t you think?” she says, smiling at Eirika as she prepares another spell. She seems to have pulled herself out of her earlier malaise and it is enough to cheer Eirika as well.

She loses track of Joshua’s battle and is only peripherally aware of the sounds of metal on metal. Her sword thrusts in the direction of one head as another snaps at her. L’Arachel hits the beast with an attack that causes it to stumble and her own swift strikes finishes it off. An agonized cry can be heard and she turns to see Joshua behead the other with a clean swipe of his blade. He tosses the mass to the side with inhuman strength. A crumbled form lays behind him and he looks to L’Arachel.

“Would you like to perform the final rites? I would rather not resort to having to wait for your magic to finish the job like the last fellow,” he says and L’Arachel nods her assent. 

They observe as Caellach turns to dust in the light. In the end, his axe is all that remains.

“I could crush him into a powder myself and spread him as sand in the wind, but her holiness is the true guarantor that they won’t ever put the pieces back together again,” Joshua explains. “That fool bat resisted the light, nattering on in pieces on the ground when he could have had a swifter end.” 

Eirika’s mouth turns down at the description. When L’Arachel returns, she glares at him.

“What awful things are you telling her? Just because we have a truce doesn’t mean I’ll stand for you acting a fiend,” she says, brandishing her staff like a weapon.

Wanting to avoid a disagreement, Eirika steps between the two.

“Let’s keep going. Ephraim’s here somewhere and,” she says and breathes before she finishes her thought, “so is Lyon.”

“Ah, the supposed Master-” Joshua starts and L’Arachel cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. He quirks a brow at the reaction. Eirika sighs as they all move to explore further into the labyrinthine structure. Like they had in the city, they make efficient progress as a group. L’Arachel claims to know where Lyon is, but apologizes when she asks after her brother.

“The dead are my business here,” she says, smile faltering at the explanation before she beams once again. “So it is actually quite fortunate I cannot sense him!”

After clearing several other rooms and hallways, there are sounds of a fight nearby. As they round the corner into a new corridor, she sees him. Her entire body tenses as she uses all her will to prevent herself from calling out his name. They are in the middle of a fight with a small horde of skeletons and she transitions smoothly into a run, preparing herself to aid them. L’Arachel shouts a call to arms behind her, but her focus is on the fighting as she cuts down the attackers. He’s not alone, but she suspected he wouldn’t be even if it frustrates her that he would allow Kyle and Forde to follow when he left her to wake up one day to find him gone with no trace of where he disappeared to until the delivery of the letter. The memories of the early days after he departed swamp her, but when the battle is over it all falls away as she turns to him.

“Ephraim! You’re alive!” she says. “You’re alive!” She repeats herself as if saying it again will make it more true than the first time. She reaches out to grip his arm and for a moment he appears incredulous to see her there before he recovers.

“Of course I am.” 

She wants to smack him and hug him all at once. She settles on the latter and he awkwardly returns the embrace. They aren’t free yet and that truth steals away some of her joy, but she decides she can allow herself to appreciate the moment while it lasts.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and there is no way to summarize everything in any compact way, so she cuts to the most important piece.

“Lyon,” she says and the name is coarse like sandpaper on her tongue. “He said you would be here. He asked me to come. I thought that I could help you both. I had to try.”

She feels both of her companions step forward.

“It’s too late for that fellow. He’s no longer who he once was,” Joshua says.

“He must be defeated,” L’Arachel adds, “We cannot allow what happened here to spread to the rest of the continent.” 

“Oh, um, L’Arachel, Joshua. This is my brother, Ephraim,” she says, smiling and her face feels brittle from the movement like it doesn’t know how to make the expression anymore because it has been so long since she has had anything to smile about. They introduce themselves to her brother and his companions. All might not be right, but being able to move past this place suddenly seems possible.

“As touching as this reunion is, we’d best move on,” Joshua says.

“I can take us where we need to go. It is not far, but we need to make some preparations first,” L’Arachel says as she pulls out a tome Eirika hasn’t seen yet.  
“I was hoping to take care of this myself, but as it is you who knew him best, perhaps it would be most appropriate to let you two take the lead. Your weapons as they are won’t be a match, however,” she says. “If I may be so bold as to request your sword and lance, I can assist with that.”

Eirika hands her rapier over without hesitation and nods to Ephraim. He extends his offering more reluctantly, but does not protest. L’Arachel handles both arms with care, pulling out pages from the unfamiliar tome and sliding them over the lance and her sword. The parchment crackles and disintegrates into dust that leaves a gold sheen on the metal. 

“May the saints forgive me,” she murmurs and for the first time since Eirika has met her she detects a nervous inflection in her voice.

Their weapons emit a glow as if imbued with sunlight. When she lifts her rapier it shines with the movement. Ephraim turns to the empty space behind him and gives several test jabs. Arcs of light follow the point.

“It won’t last forever,” L’Arachel says, “We must end this now.”

“Should be interesting,” Joshua says before raising his hat a bit and winking with a perfectly healed eye.

In another corner of their loose arrangement, Kyle and Forde swear to fight on behalf of her brother. 

“We’ve gotten this far and we won’t abandon you now!” Forde says as he claps him on the back.

“Just keep your head in the fight then,” Ephraim responds.

“Hey, I’m not one to fool around in a scuffle!”

Ephraim scowls at him before he shakes his head.

“I’m counting on you, you know,” he says.

“You _can_ rely on us,” Kyle says, standing next to her brother. “Do what you need to do and we’ll have your back.”

Forde throws an arm around Kyle’s shoulders.

“It’s exactly as he said!” he says, his affable manner soothes the restlessness as several noticeably relax, her brother included.

Not to be outdone, L’Arachel joins in on the final rally.

“Onward! Let us bring day back to Rausten and purge the land of these obscenities!” she says, raising a staff in one hand. “May the divine guide you all!”

A temporary calm settles over her and it is enough to help her reach their ultimate destination.

“She’s right, you know. That friend of yours. Lyon is our friend and because of that, we must be the ones to strike him down. It’s what he would have wanted,” Ephraim says as he stands next to her. The illumination of the candles and lanterns have continued to follow them throughout their path through the castle, marking their progress. The flickering lights cast shadows that cause his features to look sharp and angled. 

“Let’s finish this,” she responds, still clutching onto serenity even as it grows more evasive the harder she attempts to retain it.

The throne room is dark except for the moon, which continues to follow them as a silent and unwavering witness. Statues line the green carpet that proceeds to the farthermost point of the chamber. These are different from the ones the gargoyles hide among. Their expressions and postures are contorted instead of simply fearful. They did not have a chance to fight their way out. She avoids looking too closely as her eyes adjust to the light. A figure waits for them at the head of the room.

“You have arrived, my friends,” he says and there is an ache in her chest at the sound. It is the same soft cadence that she has known since childhood. If she could only speak to him one last time...

“Lyon,” she says, and her voice quavers, the calm torn away like a leaf in a rushing current.

If I could only ask you to come back to us.

“Eirika,” he says and the worst part is how warm his voice is. It’s more alive than it’s been in years and she wishes to sit with him, hold his hand and talk like they once did, just Ephraim, Lyon and her. “I’m truly glad you came. I wrote that letter so long ago, but time means little to me now.”

“Lyon, we didn’t come to talk,” Ephraim says.

“Oh, Ephraim,” he says, shifting suddenly. “Don’t pretend you can fight me now. I would crush you with the smallest effort. I’m not the fragile being you once knew. He’s dead and I’m so relieved to be here instead.”

Eirika recoils at the change.

“Why, Lyon?” she asks, voice cracking.

“They executed everyone when they saw what we discovered back then,” he says, tone bitter, “My father, who had nothing to do with it and was already ill, Knoll… everyone. Why couldn’t they see we were only working to help people? When I was offered power unimaginable, I took it. You couldn’t begin to understand, Eirika, not as you are now. I will free you of the mortal limitations that blind you.”

_Listen for the lies in their words._

He makes obvious omissions in his retelling. He had reanimated his father’s corpse, but as a husk of his former self. A cleric had shuddered when she had relayed the tale to Eirika in Serafew. At the time, she had dismissed the details as irrational. The cleric’s master had lost his life sounding the alarm, brutally slain by what she now suspects was Lyon himself or, at least, the demon he had become. 

She breathes deeply. Ephraim is at her side and their combined sets of companions stand close. It’s time for it to end and she feels the warmth of her blade, comforting her and reassuring her that this is the correct decision. 

“No, Lyon,” she says, fighting back the dread before it can grip her and strangle her resolve. “ _We_ will free _you_.”

“So be it,” he says in a voice not his own.

The room erupts into bursts of frantic movement as monsters appear from behind the throne and the statues scattered throughout the room. Ephraim is near and they work in tandem to cut down the fiends and protect each other’s backs. They are familiar with the other’s habits after years of sparring and their dance is fluid. Channeled lightning flares in the chaos as L’Arachel’s chants and taunts cavort among the shrieks and clashes of metal on flesh. Kyle and Forde fight side-by-side as Joshua bounds from foe to foe. Their own blessed arms meet no resistance as they slowly make their way to where Lyon sits, an usurper draped in red and gold. 

_Why, Lyon?_

In one flowing movement he stands and the moonlight dulls. The sounds of battle are far away as he reveals a tome. They can only watch, enthralled, as darkness coils onto the floor and spreads like smoke, tendrils caressing them both and whispering a promise and a threat. 

_You will join me._

The spell is broken as the heavens open to reveal pillars of light that shine down and cleave the shadow, dispersing the dark and its pledge. They react as one, Eirika piercing his chest and Ephraim running him through his middle. The last of the light on their weapons breaks free in the attack to finish the strike.

He crumples and they fall with him. His eyes are closed as if asleep and without warning his form fades to dust. She tosses her sword, repulsed, and sinks to her knees. Ephraim stands close, the point of his lance resting on the ground, his grip slackened.

“Lyon,” they say and it is all they can do, the first light of sunrise not registering with either of them for some time. 

-x-

L’Arachel helps her up. Her legs are cold and stiff. Ephraim’s face harbors a blank expression and everyone is silent as they filter out of the room. Her eyes sting and her cheeks itch. 

As they walk down a windowless corridor, Joshua stops.

“I think it’s time I return home. I’ve roamed long enough,” he says, waving a hand carelessly as he parts from the group.

“If you begin to hassle the living, I’ll have to send you back to your grave, you know!” L’Arachel threatens and even though she is smiling, Eirika doesn’t doubt that she would follow through with such a promise.

Without another word, he melts into the shadows much in the same way as he first appeared and Eirika is not sure if it's a trick of the eye or one of his skills.

They wind their way down towards the entrance, the sun rising in the east. The statues that had been on display have vanished and even the stone walls appear less firm, a mirage fading as the light shines over the ramparts and the keep. Ephraim walks with Kyle and Forde. She keeps pace with L’Arachel who holds a staff in hand and is quiet, almost contemplative. She stops a moment at the window they had passed through earlier and takes Eirika’s hand.

“We’ll just be a moment,” L’Arachel says to Ephraim who crosses his arms, but is also content to rest as he leans against a wall. The lack of sleep and food is catching up to them, Eirika thinks.

The snow has melted or disappeared, Eirika isn’t sure which though she suspects the latter. L’Arachel gently drops her hand and moves to stand by the wall, hands on hips as she surveys the valley below. As the sunlight behind her blurs the edges of her robes, Eirika notices as she relaxes her shoulders.

“Are you alright, L’Arachel?”

“Ah, I am at peace. Thank you. I had thought to delay my departure for a bit longer and deliver your brother to you, but we found him after all. That was going to be one last adventure, you see, but I was truly grateful for your company,” she says and smiles, turning to face Eirika and clasping her hands in front of her, her rings clacking against each other though the sound is muffled as if heard from a distance. There are pinpricks behind Eirika’s eyes, but she doesn’t have time to mind that. She needs to know what is happening. She doesn’t want to know what is happening.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand?” She has barely begun to grieve over Lyon, but it’s not enough. L’Arachel meets her eyes, her gaze sympathetic.

“This was all a dying prayer, but thank the gods it was not in vain. You needn’t be sad. I would not want for that. Perhaps we can meet again. Yes, I believe we will! I’ll be certain to seek you out,” she says, more of her fading into the sunlight, “In another life then, Eirika! Continue to fight valiantly! You shall have Latona’s protection and my own!”

There is wetness on her cheeks and she isn’t sure if it’s because of Lyon or exhaustion or how wrong it is for L’Arachel to say farewell. She doesn’t have it in her to entertain thoughts of pleading with another to stay. L’Arachel pats the stone wall next to her.

“Come, let us watch the sunrise. I think that would be a lovely memory to end on.”

When Ephraim checks on her later, she is observing the daybreak alone. In a rare show of affection, he wipes her cheeks and drapes his cape over her shoulders. The snow has gone, but the air has grown colder.

-x-

It is eight years later when she returns, flying over the mountains on the back of a pegasus. After leaving Rausten, they continued to fight off the remnants of Lyon’s influence from Rausten to Carcino, meeting up with friends from Frelia in Port Kiris who had also been investigating the disturbing deterioration of the continent and the creeping darkness that spread from the east. Innes had scoffed at their tales of a castle on a hill and a cursed city where time had no meaning. She could not bring herself to talk of Lyon or the holy princess of Rausten until the evening when she shared a room with Tana, her old confidante and childhood friend.

They reunited with Joshua when they made a final stop to clear the ruins at Lagdou in Jehanna. His Queen Mother had been restored to her rightful place as the Watchful Queen of the Desert and once again he felt wanderlust’s call to adventure. There were moments in the ruins where she was certain she would suffer a blow, but attacks would be oddly deflected or angled just enough to miss. Joshua had sought her out to talk as they advanced.

“You really do have the saint’s luck on your side,” he said and Eirika couldn’t tell if it was with disdain or envy.

Years passed and Magvel recovered just as she did, in an often haphazard way where weeks of peace would pass only to be interrupted by newfound threats or memories that would jar her from sleep. They endured and found happiness in the aftermath.

As they land, she dismounts from the pegasus after Tana who helps her down with an extended hand. She thinks of all that has transpired as they walk over the cliff side path, a different place altogether in the light of day. It is as if the earth has reclaimed the land. No sign of city nor castle remains.

_It will outlast in one way or another._

The once barren hill is now covered in flora and the valleys that had been full of mist are warmed by sunlight. At the inn the night before, locals told tales of a specter with an axe made of light who fought in the nearby Darkling Woods on nights the remaining monsters grew restless and crept out to plague the living. They called her a hero of virtue come to safeguard the hamlets and travelers who were resettling in the valley. One woman insisted she was a messenger of the saints themselves.

There is still a chill to the air even if it is warmer on the ground than it had been during the flight. As she leans into her wife’s arm, she brushes a hand over the gem at her throat, a memory of someone gone but not forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> In which L’Arachel canonizes herself a Saint. 
> 
> Sorry if the tags are a bit weird for this. I didn’t want to give things away so easily or alter expectations based on tags (which is why it's not tagged Eirika/Tana... even though it's Eirika/Tana in the end though whew feel free to read all the Eirika/L'Arachel you want into it).
> 
> I broke one of my cardinal rules and I’m still kind of ambivalent about it.: / I think she’d enjoy being a guardian spirit who gets to run around vanquishing monsters and protecting people though. Probably with Dozla (magic axe lord and axe retainer!) and most likely playing coy about her true identity (while also blatantly revealing her true identity).
> 
> It was fun to play with the RPG trinity: mage, rogue, fighter. Even if these three feel a bit atypical for the roles (and they didn’t get equal billing… Sorry, Joshua). The bolt axe at the end is a reference to L’Arachel’s Einherjar class in Awakening (War Cleric).


End file.
